I eat, I sleep, I defecate, and I play. When I want attention, I just cry and they come right in and show me the love. I mumble a couple of words (really just sounds) and they act like I’ve invented the cure for malaria. Not a bad life when you think about it. The pizza will come. The pizza will come.
Day 7 and people are still talking to me like I’m on muscle relaxant. How long will this last?
Day Three: Is that pizza? Smells like pizza. Hello? You know, sometimes these guys are all over me like nobody’s business, random people show up and hold me like I’m a football, this one guy thinks he’s God’s gift to James Taylor. Other times they wrap me up like a mummy and stick me in this basket and away I go, to hang out with the other prisoners. But this is the worst! They’re having pizza, but I’ll tell you right now that no one, and I mean no one will offer me a slice. Hey Ava, how about some more of that white goopy stuff? Yeah, sure, that’s exactly what I want. You really love your baby? Get me some Italian Beef, Daddy-o.
So, it’s been a few days, and one thing I can tell you is that my parents are into my action like nobody’s beeswax. They are all over my sweet white potato-shaped personhood. Seriously. I let out a wail, and they jump. It’s awesome. But I still can’t order Domino’s. Soon, my friends. Soon. And then we’ll be awash in Cheesy Garlic Bread. I wonder where that desire comes from? Come to think of it, I could use a Sierra Nevada.
So, I’m crying like a … I don’t know, like a something. I don’t have words yet, give me a freakin’ break. Anyway, I’m giving it all I got. But does anyone seem concerned? Doesn’t look like it. I could have just gotten my wallet stolen, and everyone’s smiling at me like I’m an idiot. For Pete’s sake, what’s wrong with these people?
Born. Wow, that was gross. It’s bright in here. Hey, mom and dad. You sure you’re ready for this?
Ava & The Chach 